Half Truth
by Astralis
Summary: You make me really, really happy, she says. It's not quite a lie. SamanthaMartin, hints of SamanthaJack, spoilers for Malone v Malone.


**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine. The first line of dialogue comes straight from _Malone V Malone_.

* * *

"You make me really, really happy," she says.

It's not quite a lie.

Martin shifts awkwardly. Uncertainly. He looks half ridiculous and half adorable in the Santa hat, his FBI badge dangling bizarrely from one side.

The party swirls around them like the tide, leaving them separate, untouched, apart. When someone arrives in search of more eggnog Samantha flees, telling herself she's afraid the man will pick up on something between her and Martin. She makes small talk with acquaintances and watches Martin from a distance.

* * *

She's only just beginning to get into the card game when Jack arrives, knocking her off her carefully established balance. Today has been painful; she blames herself and Jack in equal measure, and her run-in with Maria in the breakroom has left the sour taste of unwanted victory in the pit of her stomach.

She saw what happened to the window Jack threw a chair through, and she understands the sensation of shattering.

* * *

The Chinese restaurant - their favourite haunt as a team - feels dingier than ever tonight, despite the bright, cheap Christmas decorations. One by one excuses shrink the group, until Samantha, Martin and Danny remain at the now too-large formica table, surrounded by plates of congealing leftovers and toying with the half-empty glasses of Coke they all drink to keep Danny company.

Danny drains his drink and puts the empty glass on the table, carefully, beside those left by the others. He gives them a look Samantha wishes she didn't understand and leaves after showering them with the usual Christmas platitudes.

"Well," she says, when the door slams shut behind Danny. "Your place?"

There are ghosts at her apartment tonight.

* * *

They make love in his bed with the lights dimmed and the sound of traffic outside. When she comes she cries, and it's nearly a minute before Martin takes her in his arms and rubs her back and tells her it'll be okay.

She doesn't believe him.

He doesn't ask her what's wrong.

* * *

He invited her to spend Christmas with his family, but they both knew she wouldn't, even if it was feasible. The fact that his father is deputy director of the FBI and Samantha is both lover and co-worker provides a plausible excuse.

So as Martin gets ready they take a moment to exchange gifts. He got her a necklace, pretty, but nothing remarkable. She bought him a decent bottle of brandy, and doesn't feel that it's inadequate as he fastens the necklace on her.

Like a prize.

"Have a good day, Sam." His lips linger on her forehead. "I'll see you tonight."

She nods. She's got all day to exorcise the ghosts.

* * *

Later that afternoon she calls Martin and leaves a message on his cell when he doesn't pick up. She tells him she's got a headache and she needs to sleep and she'll talk to him tomorrow.

It's true enough. A bottle of red wine, drunk alone, has that effect on her.

She wonders if he'll notice the slurred words.

* * *

Samantha wakes in the early hours of the morning with a worse headache that the one she took to bed. She forces a couple of painkillers down her throat and curls up in bed with pillows in her arms. Guilt swamps her from all sides, with images of Martin, Jack, Jack, Martin. Martin's tenderness after she was beaten up in the Colleen McGrath case, peaceful evenings with Jack all the time knowing he had to go home to his wife and children... Martin, Jack, Jack, Martin, and guilt, overwhelming guilt, for thinking about Jack when she's seeing Martin, for her role in the break-up of Jack's marriage and family, for the fact that she's slept with not one but two of the men she works with.

Sam goes to the bathroom and throws up.

She should drink less, and she sure as hell shouldn't drink alone.

* * *

What would have happened if Jack hadn't ended their affair? Where would she be now?

* * *

"Feeling better?" Martin asks next time he sees her, in a covert corner at work, limp Christmas decorations surrounding them.

"Sure," she says, and fakes a smile.

* * *

**THE END**


End file.
